Well, I love Zimbabwe. Nothing pisses me off more than the realization of how greatly the Western media skews Africa as being some big black hole and dark continent, too messy to even bother with. Either the West is trying to "save" Africa, or they turn their backs on it and blame the people for the tyrannical dictators that have violently seized power. Zimbabweans are probably the most gentle, kind, and patient people I've ever met. They suffer from significant poverty and oppression, but feel blessed in living everyday. I wish some Americans I know could see how much is cherished despite what little they have.
I've been here for 3 weeks, almost 4. On one hand I'm feeling much more comfortable interacting with people, not only within the comfortable safety of the embassy community (gated community galore, boo!), but also with local Zimbabweans on the street. I've learned the handshake styles, the casual greetings in shona. I am teased by fruit vendors when I run by all sweaty in the morning. "Run faster!" they shout at me laughing, to which I always groan back, smiling. Also, I've come to terms with understanding my sudden status change. Race is hugely important here. Not only as a status indicator (thanks to diehard Rhodies, aka ex-pat white Rhodesians), but more as a means of self-definition and a reflection of culture. Race is something to take pride in here because it's an indicator of culture. It's a declaration of "being" in a way. For me, as a white, blonde, American woman - I've learned and continue to learn what it's like to be the minority here...And that paradigm shift is incredibly humbling. I felt vulnerable at first, isolated, even a little fearful and defensive sometimes. I kept trying to figure out why I didn't want to do simple things, like go out in town for a walk, and then it suddenly dawned on me how unfamiliar I was with sticking out, how in just walking down the street I was the oddball, something to be stared at, somewhat of a curious billowing blonde spectacle! It was only then that I TRUELY realized how living in mostly white communities my entire life has sheltered me from the difficulties that black, latino, or Native American kids went through at my high school, and continue to deal with on our "diverse" Willamette campus, in just navigating through everyday life! I've always been part of the majority, and I now comprehend how even if I've disassociated myself from sects of the white majority, I've always been safe in the power and privilege it brings to my voice, my ideas, in the construction of my reality. It's magnitude is shocking. But my society has always been dominated by a white majority in which the loudest voice gets the most attention. Now, I am immersed within a black majority, and the tables are turned. I am walking in different shoes and suddenly I know. I GET IT. This has been a pivotal empowering realization of race and societal belonging has transformed my experiences here, and the lens in which I now analyze my own life back home. I still haven't hashed out all my thoughts on this yet...it's something I think about everyday though. I'm working on it.
Another thing that has been on my mind is the power of government institutions in making or breaking someone's whole life. Since, I’m working out of the consular section, which works specifically with applicants wanting American visas, I check passports, take fingerprints, run general interviews, and then pass off each applicant to get grilled by my supervisor. It's been tough for me being the "bad" guy...we only approve applicants with as few ties as possible to the States because many who get temporary visas never come back to Zimbabwe. I feel like I'm in the belly of the beast...that I'm being assigned to do something that is against my very ideas on immigration amnesty that I advocated for earlier in the year. But to beat the enemy, you must know the enemy I suppose, and that's one of the only things getting me through this job right now. We have to deny so many people...split up families. The law feels so dehumanizing to wanna-be immigrants. The bureaucratic hoops applicants have to jump through makes it almost impossible for anyone to get through the processes successfully. I feel like the system is created to deter people from even trying. To challenge me further, my supervisor has even assigned me to investigate fraud cases. People are desperate to get to America and they'll do almost anything, including marriage fraud, passport forgery, you name it. It's challenging work. I hate telling people "sorry, no. My country doesn't want you." And that's another thing: the procedure ALSO dehumanizes the people within the institution!! You have to disconnect yourself. Take my boss for example. He takes his job very seriously, has a personal vendetta against wife-beaters and terrorists, and by golly wouldn't let any old bloke just walk across the border. But the decisions he makes weigh very heavily on his shoulders and needs someone to share the burden with. He's deciding the future of peoples lives. It's as unnerving to him as it is to me. I have a new awareness about this aspect of government work. I'm beginning to wonder whether I'm cut out for a career in government as I've been planning for so many years. How can I have faith in an institution that is so unjust, so uncompassionate on both sides of the glass? I don't know. I'm working on that one too...
That’s all my ramblings for now. Peace and love…
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